


Irresistible

by Ragno



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-12 02:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3339584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragno/pseuds/Ragno
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I’m coming for you and I’m making war</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irresistible

 

 

 

 

“I’m not singing this.” Patrick’s expression is hard and Pete already knows what he’s talking about. It’s not that he didn’t expect it, of course he knew Patrick would have something to say, he always has. But he had a shitty morning today, he’s tired, angry and frustrated, and somehow he feels he could use a good fight right now. And who better than Patrick to fight with?

“You change the lyrics or I’ll do it, but there’s no way I’m singing this, Pete. And you know it. We’ve already talked about it.”

“No,” he answers, “the lyrics stay as they are. Do with them whatever you want, add some ‘she’ and ‘her’ here and there, but I’m not changing them. And you neither.”

Patrick looks at him as if he suddenly couldn’t understand English. Or Pete.

“What?”

“I’m not changing them. I like them as they are.”

Patrick frowns, taking off his glasses and pressing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He stands up of his chair in front of the mixing table and walk towards Pete.

“What did you just said?” Patrick asks, but it’s not a question, it’s a chance to change the answer. Pete doesn’t take it.

“I’m not changing them.” He risks.

“Then I’m not singing them.” Patrick says.

It’s not what Pete was expecting. Pete wanted a furious Patrick, a Patrick yelling at him, telling him he’s out of his mind, pushing him, hitting him, breaking his fucking mouth. That’s what Pete wants because that’s what Pete needs. And that’s what Pete’s gonna get.

“Why not?”

“Why n— Are you really that stupid?!” Patrick shouts and his hands begin to ball in fists.

“Yeah, why not? Why don’t you wanna sing them? I don’t get it…” Playing stupid is the best card he has.

“Because it’s risking too much, you always risk too much, and for what? What do you want? You want everybody to know? Because that’s what it looks like!” Patrick’s cheeks are turning red.

“I want to tell the story as it is, not some euphemistic bullshit—”

“If you want to tell the story as it fucking is, then pick another story! You’ve got a lot of them.” He screams as he approaches to Pete. “You think they can’t see it? For god’s sake, Pete. They’re not even going to pretend, you know? And neither I am. I’m not a teenage boy anymore, I’m not gonna pretend I don’t know I’m singing about me— about us! Or that anyone else knows either.”

“Oh, is that, isn’t it? You’re afraid your little wife will get upset? You have to be a good gentleman and protect her” Pete knows the right buttons to push.

“Don’t be fucking ridiculous bringing Lisa into this. You know she doesn’t need me to beat the hell out of you if she ever wants to.” He says, and Pete knows he does it to hurt him. It’s okay, he can play too.

“Oh, yeah? Then it’s just you. You’re just a coward, you are too afraid to—”

“I’m not afraid to anything.” Patrick says rough in front of him and Pete shivers. He’s too close. So close Pete can feel the warmth of his breath.

“You sure?” Pete tries to sound firm, but his voice betrays him.

“You’re playing with fire, Pete. And you’re so gonna get burn” Patrick warns.

“I’m gonna make you sing about yourself every fucking day of your life. You can’t fucking stop me.” Pete whispers in return, as if it were a secret.

“I could break your mouth right now, you know? Teach you to be careful about what comes out of it.” Patrick is closer and Pete steps back a little, leaning against the wall.

“Do it.” He says, more excited than he should. “Break my mouth”.

The first touch of lips Patrick doesn’t expect it, or at least he doesn’t react for a couple of seconds. But then there it is. Patrick catch Pete’s lips in a bite, grabbing his jaw and licking his mouth, sucking his bottom lip before biting once again, digging his fingers into Pete’s face “I know what you’re trying to do.” Patrick murmurs over his mouth and Pete moans. “Stop it.”

“No.” Pete says, leaning in and kissing Patrick again hard and wet, seconds before Patrick shoves his head against the wall, stopping him.

“I so want to beat you to death right now,” Patrick growls and Pete smiles “but you’ll love it, right?”

Of course he will, more now that he can feel Patrick hard rock against his thigh. And he wants to feel more; he wants to feel Patrick’s anger all over his body.

“I should leave you like this, I should kick you out of my studio and leave you hard and wanting.” Patrick says as he touches Pete’s cock over his jeans.

“But you’re gonna fuck me instead.” Pete breathes.

“I’m gonna hurt you instead.” Patrick corrects.

“Same thing.”

Patrick grabs him by the neck, holding him up against the wall. Pete looks into his eyes, defying, eyes so dark he has to remind himself they were blue in another time.

The kiss is violent, like a bruise, and Pete mouth opens hungry for it, wanting to suck and bite and lick and kiss as much as he can, while he can. Patrick holds his head again, keeping him still, kissing his lips the last time before looking at him.

 “Are you gonna be good for me, Pete?”

“No,” he smirks, “I’m gonna be a son of a bitch. So, what are you gonna do to punish me, Patrick?”

Wrong.

So wrong.

He shouldn’t have said that, he knows it. But it’s to late to take it back.

The slap impacts against his cheek not so hard to leave a mark but enough to sting. If Pete weren’t already against a wall he would have ended up there. He grabs Patrick by his cardigan, it feels like he can fight back a little, at least for now, and push him towards him.

What he gets is a furious Patrick pinning his hands over his head by the writs with a hand, grinding his teeth as he leans his forehead against Pete’s.

“Do you wanna know how I’m gonna punish you? Eh?” Patrick spits against his lips, noses crushing each other. Pete can feel Patrick’s fingers unbuttoning his jeans, ripping them off, letting them fall on the floor, and knees brutally opening his legs. He’s so hard he can already feel the wet spot cooling in his boxers. “I’m not gonna fucking touch you. Neither you are” Says Patrick, holding Pete by the hipbone, digging his fingers into the flesh. “You’re not getting anything from this. I’m gonna use you as I fucking want and then I’m gonna leave you there, untouched. You’re gonna watch me come and you’re not even gonna taste it.”

It’s funny, because Pete could come just right now.

Patrick doesn’t kiss this time, he bites. Bites his lips, his tongue, his jaw, sticking his fingers through the holes in Pete’s t-shirt scratching his skin.

He licks Pete’s neck, sliding down and biting one and again, harder each time, his teeth digging so deep Pete knows it’s drawing blood. It couldn’t seem much, but it was enough, because Patrick knew better than to be leaving marks in places everyone could see, what meant he was either too mad or too turned on to care about it. Both possibilities made Pete’s legs tremble.

“Fuck, Patrick”, he begs, “Okay. Okay, please”

“What happen? Already wanting to be a good boy? Wanna make it up?” Patrick whispers, the smile in his voice.

“Yes. Yes, sorry, just… do whatever your want with the song, do whatever you want, period. But please…”

Patrick smirks, sliding his fingers down Pete’s torso, letting them hanging from the waist of Pete’s boxers. Pete knows he's fucked. "Want me to touch you here, Pete?" he whispers, caressing lightly the length of Pete's cock over the fabric. "You're gonna have to earn it" says and kiss him softly.

Patrick steps back, approaching to the desk on the left to strip off his cardigan and leaving it there.

"On your knees, Pete." Orders, not even looking at him yet. Pete obeys.

He manages to take a deep breath when Patrick stands in front of him, his fingers undoing the button of his jeans. Pete close his eyes at the sound of the zipper coming down and opens his mouth instinctively.

The taste on his tongue makes Pete hums, wrapping his lips around Patrick’s cock while he fucks his mouth slow and steady. Patrick’s always careful at first. His fingers tangle on Pete’s hair when the rhythm goes a little faster, a little harder, just a little.

“Open your eyes. Look at me” Patrick says, stroking Pete’s cheek kindly as he does as he’s told. “You’re so beautiful like this, Pete. So good… Fuck, I could keep you here forever.” he pants, but he stops, sliding out. “Come here. Fuck, come on.”

Pete stands up and Patrick kiss him immediately, holding his face, slow and a little sloppy, tasting himself in Pete’s mouth sweeter than ever.

“Gonna fuck me, Trick? Gonna—” Pete’s so desperate his whole body shudders when Patrick shushes him, kissing his lips, biting a little before holding his hand to lead him towards the desk.

He opens his legs automatically when his back hits the table, getting a proud smile as a reward. Patrick’s hair is disheveled, sweat darkening it already, his t-shirt is a little rumpled but his jeans are still in place, even when he fist his cock as he approach between Pete’s legs.

“No, babe, I’m not gonna fuck you.” Patrick says, and Pete shut his eyes as he feel it. No lube, no fingers, no nothing, just Patrick’s cock, blunt head pressing into his body. “Remember?”

It’s not dry, Pete’s spit and Patrick’s own lubrication are helping, but it still feels like he’s going to break in two. Patrick holds his thighs as he slides in, biting his lower lips until he’s deep inside Pete.

It burns and it hurts and it’s so perfect Pete lets himself lie down when Patrick starts to move in and out, not fast but not slow, setting a rhythm only Patrick knows. It doesn’t last, of course. In the moment Patrick feels correct, the speed changes and Pete grabs the table, holding himself to resist Patrick’s strength.

Pete groans and grind his teeth. Patrick is ravishing him, his hands all over his body, his lips all over his skin, his voice all over his brain.

“Does it hurt, Pete? Does it hurt, baby?” Patrick asks, his voice so sweet as he slams Pete’s body against the desk, grabbing his legs so thigh his fingernails are breaking the skin.

“Yes”, Pete pants, and it’s actually surprising that he can even speak. “Yes. Fuck, yes, Patrick”

“Tell me. Wanna hear it” Patrick’s voice so deep and rough is messing with his head.

“It hurts. Fuck, it hurts”, he moans, holding on tight on the desk, his back sliding slick with sweat against the surface.

“And?” Patrick asks, demanding, thrusting harder.

And? Well, Pete’s losing his mind, that’s what it is. He is feeling so many things his body is becoming too little to handle all of them, his brain resisting to shut down and forget even his own name. ‘And’, he asked.

“And I love it,” he finally says, and yes, it’s fucking true, so fucking true. “I love it, Patrick. Fuck, I love you.”

Patrick smiles, and kisses, and touches him as if he was the very best thing on the surface of the fucking planet, and Pete loses it because now he’s sure he’s going to explode sooner or later.

When Patrick’s fingers touch his cock, Pete knows it’s going to be sooner after all. So he explodes, he fucking does, and the white light behind his eyelids becomes blinding and Pete thinks “this is fucking heaven”, and maybe he says it too. He doesn’t fucking know. He doesn’t fucking care.

 

***

 

“What a nasty bruise we’ve got here,” Patrick says, caressing the red marks on Pete’s neck with his fingers, “What are you gonna tell your girlfriend about these? ‘I made Patrick so mad he bite me’?”

“I’m gonna tell her I made Patrick so mad he fucked me.” Pete answer with a smirk as he opens his eyes.

“I bet she will enjoy the story as much as yourself.” Patrick snort besides him. For some reason they’re both lying on the floor. Pete would like to know how they ended down there.

“You keep saying girlfriend like it’s going to be temporary.” Pete says, turning his head to look at Patrick.

“You keep saying wife like it’s going to be forever.” Says Patrick, and they look at the ceiling again.

They’re not going to talk about this, about _it_ , because they never do. They never did. And somehow it feels like it’s too late to make things right, too late to do anything right at all. So they keep quiet and pretend this is not fucked up, this is normal. At least for them it is, and that should be something.

"I'm writing a song about this too, by the way." Pete laughs, "And you're gonna fucking sing it." Grins wide, rolling on the floor to look at Patrick.

Patrick looks at him and snorts, laughing a little. “You’re stupid, you know? I still don’t get it… Why would you want me to—”

“Dude.” Pete stops him “So simple. ‘Cause I’m gonna jerk off to this album like a motherfucker.”

Patrick can’t help but laugh this time, shaking his head before Pete catches his lips with his owns, humming. Patrick sighs in the kiss, returning it with hunger, stroking Pete’s cheek.

“You shouldn’t do it. We shouldn’t.” he says, and Pete’s no sure what’s he talking about. Or doesn’t want to be sure.

Anyway, he speaks up.

“Of course we should. In fact, I’m gonna write the whole album about you.” He grins and Patrick smiles. “I already did, didn’t I? I can do it again.”

Patrick hugs him and sighs, but he’s still smiling.

“Yeah, you did. And yes, you do.”

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
